The Witch, The Wiccan: The Awakening
by Over.Thinking.Daily.Life
Summary: (The better plotted re-write of "Lisa Turpin Goes to Hogwarts") Lisa always knew she was destined to be a great witch, following in the footsteps of her parents, learning the mysteries of the universe. Then she received her Hogwarts Letter. How will a girl who has been trained in wiccan witchcraft manage a life in Hogwarts?


A/N: Hello and Welcome to this story! This is a re-write of "Lisa Turpin Goes to Hogwarts." I felt the original lacked a coherent plots structure or a focused theme, so this is my first attempt rewriting something which has been plotted out in its entirety.

The day began as any other: birds woke in the cool of morning, foxes slunk back to their dens, the stars slowly winked out of sight. Nothing portended the life shattering event about to take place. Nothing that was, except the owl waiting patiently in the oak tree.

. . . . . . . .

At 4:54 sharp, Lisa Turpin's alarm shrilled loud enough to wake the birds, until a small hand searched, found, and smacked the off button. In the sudden silence, a small figure pushed herself to a sitting position, brushed the long strands of hair out of her eyes, and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she padded across the narrow hallway to her mother's room. The door was partially ajar and Lisa slipped inside. Entering her mother's room was like entering another world. Heavy, trailing curtains shut out the external world and shrouded the room in a deep twilight lit only by candle light. These, now gutted, candles were circled around a bowl of water, a plat of salt, and the ashes of the incense which hung in the air.

But the faded rose at the center of the circle made Lisa pause, heart heavy, as she glanced between the rose, the empty wine bottles, and the figure collapsed on the bed. Another failed summoning. Would it be better to let her mother sleep in today? No, today more than ever, Celestia Rose, once Sally, needed the discipline of their craft's practice.

"Mum, it's time." Lisa whispered. The gloomy air ate her voice and the woman didn't stir. Picking her way carefully through the maze of books, Lisa climbed onto the bed and shook her mother's shoulder. "Mum, remember your promise." Celestia pulled away from Lisa's rocking.

"It's almost dawn," Lisa continued, encouraged by the small sign of movement. "You promised to help me Greet the Sun."

"Didn't," Celestia muttered tiredly.

"Did," Lisa corrected and grinned. If Celestia was almost coherent, last night couldn't have been too bad. "Every morning, from Beltain to Samhain, you promised." Celestia rolled away from her and buried her face in her pillow.

"Stupid promise," Her voice was muffled by the pillow, "Stupid plan. Why didn't you want to worship the moon or something normal?"

"Because I haven't started my menses," Lisa replied as she scooted off the bed and bent to pick up a fallen wine glass, "And because the Sun has a more immediate effect. And because I like getting up early."

"Psha. How are you even my daughter?" Despite her protests and grumbles, Celestia had pushed herself up to her for arms, arching her back and groaning as the bones cracked with use. Lisa's grin faltered. This was a bad path for the conversation to turn. Unless she could divert her mother. . .

"Same hair, same build, same magical potential," She teased with a light tone, "Of course, if you don't want me to realize my destiny as a powerful witch. . ." Her voice trailed off suggestively, but Celestia was already glaring at her.

"Lisa, words have power so don't use them lightly. You will be the most awe inspiring witch. The blood of two witches runs in your veins-"

"Then prove it," Lisa grabbed the empty bottle from off a stack of books and grinned at her mother, "If you really are a high priestess, get up and come Greet the Sun with me. It will be up in five minutes."

. . . . . . . . . .

Already, the sky was paling in the east as Lisa left the dishes in the kitchen and crossed to the small alter positioned towards the east. She lit the candles and pulled out a stick of incense, sage for cleansing, before clasping her hands to feel the pre-dawn vibrations resonate in her soul. True, at the moment, she couldn't feel much beyond the faint, sleepy drag of her eyelids and the chill of her bare feet, but she was a novice witch. Her training had only just begun.

Celestia hesitated to begin Lisa's training this year. You're only eleven, her mother had protested, wait until you begin your menses or there's a divine omen. Lisa disagreed. If Celestia wasn't willing to teach her, there were others who would. If not the members of her mother's coven, then the spirit guides Lisa had read about in books. Failing that, Lisa also knew the incantations to summon a demon and the sigils to speak to the dead. Celestia relented and, first with reluctance but then enthusiasm, helped Lisa plan out her course of studies for the precious months of summer remaining.

Any ritual work would have to wait until she had further developed her intellectual and spiritual abilities. To strengthen the former, Celestia and Lisa had spent a delightful weekend coming up with different topics: Herbology, learned from the herbs in their garden and weeds gathered along their walks. Astronomy, spent laying out in the back yard and listening to Celestia's recitation of ancient myths. Crystal work, gleaned from the books, crystals and meditation notes. History, to better understand her long history.

Spiritual development was less of a focus. Divination, first with a pendulum, but Lisa was already reading ahead in the numerous tarot books around the house. Meditation and insight, mostly through journaling, though some sitting meditation to help her clear her mind. Prayer to the household spirits. And, of course, Greeting the Sun.

Through this daily ritual, Lisa would attune her soul to the natural rhythms of the heavens. After the rise and fall of the sun were as natural as the movement of her breath, she would begin to attune subtler energies. Impatient as she was to become a fully fledged witch, Lisa knew that this was only the beginning. Her entire life stretched ahead of her- her path clear as the new dawn light.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning." Celestia entered the kitchen with light feet. Her mother lit up any room she entered and when she smiled at Lisa, Lisa felt her heart lift. Life was hard, summonings failed, but as long as they were together, everything was alright. She returned the smile and took Celestia's hand, giving it a small squeeze in sympathy and understanding.

"It is," She agreed solemnly. Together, mother and daughter took a deep breath and set their silent intentions for the day. Today would be a good day, Lisa decided. Today, they would go to the river. Nature calmed Celestia, distracted her from her thoughts and memories.

With another squeeze of her hand, Celestia let go and raised her arms above her head. Tilting her head back she took another deep breath in and let it out noisily. Lisa hurried to follow suit. Together, they breathing in the calming morning energies and released any stagnation in their lives. After thirteen of theses breaths, a magic number Celesia said, Celestia paused, arms outreached towards the pink horizon.

 _Oh sun_

 _Giver of life, granter of light_

 _We greet you_

 _We greet you with open eyes_

 _That revel in your beauty_

 _We greet you with open hands_

 _That honor all you touch_

 _We greet you with open hearts_

 _That cherish all your gifts_

 _Guide our paths this day_

 _Oh bringer of fire, light, and comfort_

 _We thank you_

 _Oh sun_

Each Greet the Sun ritual was different. Sometimes Celestia took her hands and led them in dance. Sometimes they meditated. Sometimes they sang silly songs. The variation bothered Lisa until Celestia explained that there was no one simple way to practice magic. Yes, rituals and traditions were passed down from teacher to initiate, but the heart of the practice was one of individual relationship with the divine. The practice of the witch was learning to attune one's soul to not only the subtle energies of the external world, but also to movements of your own soul. Lisa had nodded, but privately wished for a little more discipline and order to their practice.

"Oh Lisa!" Celestia cried in surprised delight. Lisa was momentarily blinded by the sliver of gold over the horizon as her eye's snapped open at her mother's cry. Following Celestia's outstretched arm, Lisa gasped. A large owl sat in the tree outside their house and seemed to be staring at them. Celestia, forgetting the failed ritual, the anniversary, anything else was transported by the sight. Delight illuminated her face brighter than the first rays of sun and Lisa felt her heart beat painfully at the sight. True joy was such a rare sight.

"Oh Lisa, what a good sign for the day. To greet the sun and to be greeted by an owl- the guardian of Athena, the keeper of secrets, who flies on silent wings and delivers death. I have to go look this up-what it might mean for the day. To have it be only a month- yes a month to the day- since the summer solstice." Unsaid, but heavily hung in the air was the other meaning of this day.

In school, Lisa learned that other kids- even children of single parents- didn't celebrate the date when the missing parent left. But the end of July always held a deep pit in her stomach- for more reasons than the encroaching start of the school year and lack of freedom. But this year, the day had started off better at least. Celestia was making an effort.

So, Lisa just rolled her eyes in pleased indulgence as her mother ran back to her room still talking excitedly to herself about what a good omen it was for the day. Crossing to the window, Lisa peered at the bird whose large eyes focused on her at her approach. The bird shifted, staring intently, as if it could see into her soul. Lisa blinked. The owl blinked back in almost understanding and Lisa took a startled step back. When a witch was on the right path, Maria said, strange natural occurrences appeared. Maybe this was one of them.

The owl didn't move when Lisa retreated to the kitchen. It stared at her while she pulled out pans, cracked eggs, and toasted bread. As Lisa set a breakfast of toads in holes gingerly around the stack of books on omens and birds that Celestia had excavated and brought to the table, the owl watched with an amused air. Celestia barely noticed. The owl had been seen and been transformed into an omen. That was all that mattered. Now, Celestia had to transform the omen into a sign of something greater and more beautiful. The fact that the owl remained barely registered.

"Oh Lisa, do you think it is a barn owl? Do we still have that book of bird watching or did John take that too when he- oh, I don't remember, but listen to this-"

Between bites of toast and egg, her mother leafed through the books at the table, reading aloud passages about the mythology, lifestyle, and characteristics of owls. Lisa was happy to listen, even as she cleared the plates and began washing up. Sure, she would have to go back and reread the books later, but her mother loved to teach. It's why her mother was one of the primary teachers for new initiates into their tradition.

"Lisa-" Her mother's voice sounded a bit choked and when Lisa looked up, she was astonished to see her mother staring at her with wide eyes. In her hands was a glossy covered book- the sort that Lisa instinctively distrusted. "Lisa, it says that owls are sometimes messengers of the dead. That they exist in the liminal state between this world and the next. Do you think. . . " Her voice trailed off softly and her gaze went vacant as if she was trying to see something beyond the next world. Lisa shifted uncomfortably in the kitchen, the wet sponge dripping on the table as her fist tightened.

"Maybe. I don't know." Her voice sounded tight and harsh in her ears. Her stomach was tightened in knots- wrapped around herself. There were times that she hated- well, not her mother, but her mother's self destructive tendencies- the desire to torture herself over trivial details. Even Lisa knew that there were just some things you let go. But Celestia held onto everything- as their house well told.

"But the ritual," Her mother started, "Maybe he heard, maybe he sent some message. Maybe he – you know I've always felt that he was out there, reaching out for me. That the silence wasn't his own fault- maybe he was kidnapped like Merlin with Nimue. That he was just waiting for the right chance"

"Mum-" Lisa hesitated. Because what could she say? The likelihood that her father, great magician or not, was waiting for them or had been sealed in a cave or locked in an enchanted sleep waiting to rejoin his beloved- that only happened in fairy tales. As a witch, she might believe in fairies but not their tales. A witch was rooted in reality first and foremost. After all, according to the other members of her class, her father was most likely in jail, on the lam or dead.

But when Celestia was looking at her with wet, wide, frightened eyes, Lisa's protests turned to ash on her tongue. Myths were important, Matthias told her. Myths sustained us when normal reason would reduce us to sniveling creatures devoid of any wonder or magic. Lisa head started to ache as she stared at her mother whose eyes pleaded with her to continue this story- not to destroy it.

"Maybe," She said with a tight jaw, "That sounds likely." The mail thunked on the front step and Lisa gave a quick prayer to the goddess in thanks for the distraction. Celestia loved the mail- it was her daily source of inspiration and entertainment. Never mind that the majority were bills or promotional flyers or that the personal ones were few and far between, it was the potential of the mail that lit up her mother's face.

And like magic, Celestia's attention was distracted. She leapt out of her chair and sped towards the door with the glee of a child. Lisa let out a long breath as her mother ran down the hall and out of sight. She put the last cup into the dish rack. One chore down. Next, she'd vacuum the living room, then copy down the list of planetary correspondences then-

There was a large crash from the front door. Lisa dropped the dish rag and sped around the corner. Celestia lay collapsed on the front rug. Shards of glass from the broken flower vase at the door spread around her.

"Mum!"

A/N: Thank you for reading. As always, your favs, follows, and reviews make my day to a stupid extent.


End file.
